Chapter Text
Garrick Ollivander remembered every wand he had ever made.
He understood them. Their nature. Sometimes the witch or wizard that they chose was an obvious match. Others were a mystery to Ollivander.
Others made him curious when he sold, but he never thought about them again. Until they changed alliance, to an unexpected one.
Unicorn hair, hawthorn, 10 inches long.
Loyal to its owner, difficult to master. Sensitive, volatile wand.
How could the wand of Draco Malfoy end up on Harry Potter's hands? The wand of a Malfoy, a Death Eater, in the hands of the Boy Who Lived?
Unless...
Ollivander had dedicated his life to wandmaking. Wands and their mystery were his faithful companions, in a way that other wizards had never been. Understanding wands had brought him to understand their owners. Nothing was hidden from the wands. The wand chose the wizard for what he didn’t want others to see.
Draco Malfoy, a hawthorn wand. Hawthorn, good with curses, the wand of a killer… or a healer. Unicorn hair core, the hardest to turn to the Dark Arts. If he hadn’t been Lucius Malfoy son, who would he be? What would he stand for? Would he ever raise his wand to lay a curse?
Harry Potter, chosen by a wand with the same core of the man that had murdered his family. Harry Potter, sharing a core with Lord Voldemort. But still, Holly. The wood to aid those in a quest. A strange combination, phoenix and holly. Strange combination like Potter himself.
But the holly and phoenix wand had been broken. The hawthorn and unicorn wand had been stolen. And their masters had not sought Ollivander to acquire a new one.
Draco Malfoy, he could understand why. Garrick had been locked up in his cellar for months, but Draco had never been cruel to him. Scared eyes, brought him trays of food with generous portions and warming charms. Garrick knew that the Dark Lord was forcing Draco to use his wand to torture, but their cores could not be corrupted. He saw Draco grow thinner and weaker. One could lie to their family about their true nature, but could not lie to their wandmaker.
And Harry Potter, that intrigued him. He had seen Potter in the Diagon Alley a few times. Helping George Weasley with the shop he, now, ran alone. He had not sought Ollivander for a new one… perhaps the hawthorn wand was working well for him. Which was unusual as well, considering its previous owner.
Garrick had cleaned up his shop, burned the broken wands that were left behind – for it was too dangerous to have broken wands around – and resumed his wandmaking and thorough study of wands. With the war many wizards and witches had lost their wands and wanted new ones. Business was good and he had many wands still in stock, but something troubled him.
He wasn’t young. He had almost died in the Dark Lord’s hand. And he had no heir.
He had no family left. Would the tradition of the Ollivander family would die out with him? He couldn’t let that happen. He needed an apprentice. An heir. Someone to carry out with his work, his family’s work, when his time came.
He heard the familiar sound of a tiny bell ringing, telling him that someone had entered his shop.
It was Hermione Granger.
“Miss Granger!” He said, taking a step towards her.
“Hello, Mr. Ollivander.” She replied. “How have you been?”
“I’m well. Rebulding. What can I do for you today?”
“I need a new wand. Mine was lost in the…” Her eyes were cautious. “Malfoy Manor. I have been waiting to see if the Ministry could retrieve it, but it broke. It appears that Bellatrix Lestrange tried to use it, but it broke off the first curse she tried to cast.”
Ollivander gave a small smile. “I should think so.” She looked curiously at him. “Wands are loyal to their owners. They can be won, yes, but there is a part of the previous owner that lives inside the wand. I believe that since you, Miss Granger, could never curse someone if Bellatrix Lestrange commanded to you, your wand refused to do so as well. Not very common, I know, but seeing as she had previously tortured you… I cannot see how your wand could work for her.”
“I see.” Granger replied curtly.
“Wands are as complex as the people who carry them, Miss Granger.” She nodded firmly, her shoulders relaxing. “So, one wand for yourself, then?”
She nodded.
“Ron was going to come too, but he is still waiting to see if they can retrieve his wand. He has been using F– Fred’s wand.” Her lips trembled and she took a long breath. “But I need a new one.”
“And Mr. Potter? Is the hawthorn wand still working for him?”
“Ah… yes.” She sounded uncertain. “I guess it is. So, should I have the same wand as before, you think?”
“Each wand is unique, so I’m afraid you cannot have another vine wood and dragon heartstring wand anymore. I’m sure we’ll find one that will suit you even better, though. Things have changed since you’ve entered my shop seven years ago.”
She sighed and nodded.
“Walnut and unicorn hair, springy, 12 and a half inches.” He said, handing over the first wand. She held it, but nothing happened. “Not unexpected! Try this one: cedar and phoenix feather, rather rigid, 11 inches.”
After trying a small pile of wands, a beautiful golden coloured pear wand, stiff, dragon heartstring and 12 inches chose Hermione Granger as its owner.
“Very wise choice.” He said, at last. “You don’t need to pay, Miss Granger.” He added when saw her producing a tiny bag of coins. “I shall never forget that you have rescued me from that cellar and what you have done for the wizarding world.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ollivander.” She replied with a kind smile.
“Ah, one last thing before you leave.” He said when she arrived at the door. “I’m looking for apprentices of wandmaking. If you or anyone that you know could be interested in that, let me know.”